The wind howled against the metal spires of Vandemar Prime, sounding like the cry of a slumbering titan. The rust-colored sky glowed with the reflection of countless furnaces below. Amid the electric storm raging across the iron plains, Alex Augustus stood on the balcony of the Palace of Circuits. The air smelled of ozone and burnt oil — to him, the scent of power.
Below, the lights of the factories pulsed like mechanical hearts. Every hammer strike, every hiss of steam, was a hymn to industry and dominance.
"Governor," came a metallic voice from behind. Alex didn't turn. He recognized the tone of Magos Dominus Lerac Thol, his most trusted advisor.
"The Core has responded again," Thol reported. "Three short pulses, followed by silence. The same sequence as Kaltrix."
Alex frowned. "Origin?"
"Subterranean. Below level zero. But… not here. The signal came from Elyos."
The name struck like a spark. Elyos — holy world of faith, jewel of the Ecclesiarchy. That the Core, a relic of forbidden Mechanicus heresy, pulsed there was blasphemy made manifest.
"Is Inquisitor Marienne Voss still in Vandemar?"
"Yes, my lord. She demands an audience."
Alex smiled faintly. "Then she already knows. The Ordo Terra smells iron."
The audience chamber was draped in half-light, electric torches reflecting blue on copper columns. Alex waited as Inquisitor Marienne Voss approached, her black cloak rippling like liquid night. Her eyes — cold as cut glass — fixed on him.
"Alex Augustus," she said sharply. "Did you really think you could hide the Core's awakening from Terra?"
"I hide nothing, Inquisitor. I merely study the inevitable."
"Inevitable?" she spat. "That machine cost billions of lives on Helios Prime!"
"Helios Var didn't destroy that world," Alex countered. "He tried to free us from superstition. The Core was not destruction — it was enlightenment."
"Careful," she warned. "The Ordo Terra does not tolerate the worship of heretics."
"And yet," Alex said softly, "your faith alone cannot power forges, feed armies, or build worlds."
The thunder outside echoed like war drums.
"Elyos has demanded the Core's destruction," she said finally. "If you refuse, they'll brand Vandemar a heretic world."
"Then let them try."
Later, Alex descended into the palace's depths — the mechanical heart of Vandemar. Wires hummed and conduits pulsed like veins. At the center floated The Core, suspended in stasis: a sphere of living metal, turning slowly, glowing faintly.
As Alex approached, the field vibrated. The Core rippled, mirroring his face — and then it spoke.
"Flesh fears iron... but iron dreams of flesh."
Alex froze. It was not a voice but a resonance in his mind.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
"I am what Helios began... and what you will complete."
Lights flickered. The floor trembled. Thol burst in, shouting, "Governor! The Core is opening psychic channels — to Elyos!"
"Let it," Alex murmured. "Show me."
A fissure of light split the chamber. A vision emerged — Elyos bathed in golden light, its cathedral-city burning as a pillar of radiance tore the sky.
Thol dropped to his knees. "The Judgment of Iron…"
"No," said Alex. "Its beginning."
When the vision faded, alarms still blared. The Core lay silent again, like a heart between beats.
Marienne stormed in, furious. "You've doomed us all! That transmission—"
"Was truth," Alex interrupted.
"You opened a psychic link with a holy world! That's heresy punishable by death!"
Alex turned to her, eyes calm. "Then kill me. But when the iron awakens, not even your gods will stop it."
Her voice faltered. "You're becoming what Helios Var was."
Alex smiled faintly. "No. I'm becoming what he was meant to be."
That night, thunder rolled across Vandemar Prime. Deep below, the Core whispered to itself, and far above, on Elyos, Archbishop Verdan awoke from a dream of blood and gears.
"Flesh fears iron... but iron dreams of flesh."
The Judgment of Iron had begun.